Epilogue
by Night Kitten
Summary: Tails has grown up, the Team has split up, Robotnik is dead. He should be happy. But as he visits his old friends, he realizes that they aren't the people he knew. All of them expect for Knuckles, that is. Slash, TailsKnuckles, Rouge with girls, happy! :D
1. Chapter 1

**Alright. This is Tails's story after Dr. Robotnik dies. Now eighteen, he and the Team have split up, with only memories and the occasional visit to remind them of what they've all done. The world is at peace, but no one ever said Heroes could cope with not needing to be heroes anymore.**

**Miles, Sonic Team, Dr. Robotnik all belong to SEGA and Sonic Team**

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Let me start by saying, Dr. Robotnik is dead. I should be happy that it's finally over, but it's kinda weird now. When me and Knuckles and Sonic were fighting Eggman, I didn't really get to _know_ them. And now I have to get used to them being themselves, and not the people I thought them to be.

Like how I never noticed that Rouge hangs out more with girls than guys, if you know what I mean. And how Espio mispronounces a lot of Japanese words, despite the training he's had. Or how Sonic is actually kinda fat, no shock after all those chilli dogs. But I never expected Knuckles to drink the way he does. That was truly unexpected.

It's like they're completely different people now.

And the way Eggman died makes things weird too. He had a heart attack, that was it.

Kinda out of character, you know? Years of robotic advances, and devious tries at world-domination, and a few too many calories it all it takes to kill him.

Part of me wishes Robotnik was back, so things can go back to the way they were. But things are a lot more peaceful now, barely any crime, no more sleepless nights working on planes for Sonic, no more worrying for my family. And getting to know my old 'friends' in an experience and a half. You'll never know what it's like, knowing almost everything about someone, and then having to relearn it all.

Some things are the same though. Amy still obsesses over Sonic, and I still like to work on planes. Sonic is still cocksure and very loud about everything, and he runs around like he's saving the world whenever he gets the chance. Knuckles is still the guardian of the Master Emerald, but with no one constantly stealing it he's got a lot more time on his hands. Rouge is as sassy as ever, sly and elegant with her own thieving. Shadow is still an emotionless mass of skin and fur.

But one thing made it really hard for me. I came out last year.

Now I know what you're thinking; _'Sweet little Tails can't be gay! It wouldn't fit!'_ Trust me, I've heard it a million times from Amy. Granted, I was kinda interested in girls when I was a kid, but now I feel better with the idea of a boyfriend.

Besides, I'm eighteen now, I think I know which gender I prefer. But it was really awkward when I came out to everyone. It was at the Heroes Anniversary, just after Sonic gave his usual speech. We all started hob-nobbing around, and as I was talking it just kinda slipped out. Shadow and Rouge heard me first, 'cause I'd been talking with them, and they looked almost proud when I said it. But Amy overheard, as is her way, and it snowballed from there. Sonic acts like he doesn't know, or doesn't care, but he's not as open now as he used to be. I don't even think Knuckles cares.

I don't see them much anymore, and I'm not the desperate little kid who follows Sonic's every whim anymore. But when I _do_ see them, they try to put me back into that 'li'l kiddo' stereotype. Well, 'them' minus Knuckles. I was never _close_ with him like I was with Sonic, so I don't think he sees me the way the others do. To most of the others I'm still the Team's pet, the little kid that needs to be protected from everything. But Knuckles just treats me like a normal person.

At first I didn't like it, but now I'm grateful for it, even if I don't know him too well.

If you're wondering, I've been working as a private jet repairman (well, 'repairfox' would be more appropriate) and pilot for rich suits lately. Not that I need to. We all made so much money from saving the world, we could live the _good_ life for forever and still have enough money to do whatever we pleased. I just like to keep busy, because I'm deathly afraid of developing a belly like Sonic's.

Right now I'm lying in bed, two years after Robotnik died, trying to figure what I'm going to do. One of my wealthier clients dismissed me for attaching missile-launchers to his jet. What can I say, old habits are hard to beat.

I turn over in bed, pulling the covers over my ears. All I want right now is to get some sleep. I'm no stranger to sleepless nights, but I'm sick of my brain waking me up all the time. Nothing is really going wrong, but that's not a good thing for me. I grew up in crisis, and having a peaceful life is unusual and straining for me sometimes. But, I guess I'm just going to have to get used to it.

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**Plz tell me what you all think, there'll be more where this came from. Can you say, "Miles/Knuckles?"**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright. Now I'm not sure if anyone will review so I'll get this part out of the way now. I. Love. Reviews. They don't have to be about the story being good, they don't have to be about the story being bad. But I like knowing what you all think, okay? So, please, review for this story, because if you think this whole thing is poorly written, I won't ever be able to fix it without knowing what you think of it.**

** So there.**

**With that out of the way, we see Knuckles for the first time now (yay) and we hear what Miles thinks of everyone else to (yay). There won't be much romance for a while yet, but just give me some time and everything will fall into place. **

**Happy reading.**

**Tails and everyone else in this thing belongs to SEGA and Sonic Team. If I owned them then Robotnik would be the hero and Sonic and Amy wouldn't exist.**

**Again, happy reading. **

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I told myself I'd visit Knuckles today. This is gonna make me sound like a horrible friend, but it's perhaps the only reason I see them anymore. Sometimes I'm glad to see them, like with Rouge or the Chaotics, but with the others it gets to be a stretch. And Knuckles had long evolved past his tough-guy attitude, and is now more of a drunk-guy character. And to top that off, he's not what you'd call a 'happy drunk'. He can control himself pretty well, but he won't go around giggling at everything when he's had a few.

He leaves that to Shadow. Seriously, Shadow is the happiest drunk you'll ever meet, get him a few bottles of rum and he won't stop giggling. It's hilarious to watch.

But with Knuckles, it's strange. He doesn't get mad (which is no surprise because he's like that when he's sober) but his tongue gets looser, and listening to him when he's like that isn't what you'd call pleasant.

Still though, I have actually enjoyed some of my visits, and he's been getting better about his drinking. I don't think he'll ever be able to give up the bottle fully, but he's been taking it in steps, to the point that he can almost go a month without a drink. Needless to say, we're all proud of him for that, even if we don't show it.

My hand falls on the door of Knuckles small shack. He built it here when sleeping on a giant emerald got be a nuisance. It's one of those places that are bigger on the inside than on the outside. The house is nice enough, nothing special, but I prefer the Island its self. You can always hear the waves below, and the low hum of the Emeralds around the Master Emerald. The air smells like pine and wild flowers, cold in your lungs and breezy all the time.

I can't smell alcohol, which good. I don't have a problem with people who drink, but life's easier when you don't have to worry if you're friend is gonna get home safely.

Breaking away from the scenery, I knock a couple times on the dark wood of the door;

"Hey Knux, it's Miles!" I call out to the shack. I've really come to enjoy using my birth name, to the point I almost never answer to 'Tails' now. Besides, I never really liked my old nickname anyway.

"Come in!" the gruff and almost blunt sounding voice calls from the other side of the door. Knuckles is the only person I've ever known who can have a _voice_ that sounds blunt. Remarks, retorts, sarcasm, yes all _sound_ blunt, but never a voice. Strange, no?

Anyway, he doesn't sound like he's been drinking, but he never really does. You can only really tell once you open a conversation with him. Never the less, I push open the door, and enter a small hallway. At the end of the short corridor is a small kitchen, with only a table, a couple of chair, a fridge, sink, small stove and a few cabinets. To my right the hall opens into a living room, which is open the kitchen and has another hall leading out of sight.

"Hey Miles," Knuckles comes to greet me from the kitchen, grapes in hand (of course). I can't even smell alcohol, so he's clean. Wonderful, that's the only word for it.

"Hey, so what's up with you?" Vector says that I don't like to have 'air in the conversation'. I disagree, because I don't talk much to begin with, but I try to avoid pauses. For me, they can get_ really_ awkward _really_ fast.

"Not much, I'm beginning to there was more action though." He always talks like that, even when everything goes to hell. I guess that's way he's so good at protecting the Emeralds, he's always ready for a _big_ fight. That's more than you could say for me.

"Yeah. It'd be nice to have _something _happen now." Knuckles smiles, showing his sharp eye teeth. Sometimes I wish I had teeth like that, like Rouge does, 'cause then I could be more intimidating. Let's face it, a wiry, blonde furred, blue eyed fox_ is_ the kind of person you'd want to run into in a dark alley. It's different for Knuckles, of course, and for Rouge. He can go down a street in broad daylight, and everyone will keep out of his way. Rouge can stroll down the road, and the second someone gives her trouble she just flashes her teeth and they all move out of her way. Perhaps she can only do that because she's a Bat, what will vampire stories and all, but it works.

"So, anything big happen to _you_?" I try to think of something, but nothing has happened for at least a month.

"Naah, nothing _big_. Has anything like this –ya know, no crime—ever happened before?" Knuckles _loves_ telling those kinda 'before you were here' stories. He always has a couple on hand, and it's a good way to break the ice. We start in for the kitchen, and Knuckles munches on some grapes before speaking.

"Yeah... but it was awhile ago," I rack my brains for any other stories I've heard that could meet these terms. Nothing comes to mind.

"What happened?" I really am interested now. Maybe it'd help me cope with all this.

"Well, a couple years before we all were, ya know _'_Heroes'; there was all kinds of crime goin' around. So Sonic and me were always needing to run around. But, around winter, the crime just stopped." He's not the best storyteller, but he gets to the point really well.

"So what'd you do?" I said taking a seat at the table and a handful of grapes from the bowl atop said. Knuckles instantly fixes me with a look, the kind he gives you before he decides how you will meet your doom. I ponder putting the grapes back, but instead I pop one into my mouth. It's his mistake to put them to if he wanted them all for himself. He gives me another look, better from the first, like he's more relaxed.

"Well," I don't know how or why, but he always starts a story like that, "I heard that Sonic couldn't stop from getting attacked by fans, but outside of that it was like now." We share a glance at this, and we're thinking the same thing;

_'Ole Sonic doesn't have to worry about that with his belly now.'_

"How'd ya cope with it, though?" I say, swallowing the grapes.

"We didin't" he simply says. "Before we could settle into being normal Robotnik showed up outta the blue."

"Oh." It's all I can say.

I stay awhile longer, talking with Knuckles and catching up on everything. Knux and Sonic keep in touch more, so it's useful to get info from Knuckles. Sonic isn't the kinda guy who let's news of his screw-ups slip.

By the time I say 'goodbye' I'm glad I came. No matter how little I know about Knuckles, there's no sense in losing a friend.

I fly back to my workshop near the Ruins. And before you ask, no, not with my tails. I actually can't fly that far anymore, my muscles can't lift my full weight now. Trust me, it was real fun while it lasted, but flying around with your ass in the air like that isn't very dignified.

I land and move the Tornado 4, my latest masterpiece, into its hanger. I head down to the train station, taking a moment to admire the waterfall. That waterfall has always been a great place to think, you just lay down on the bank and think of anything at all. It's a wonderful way to relax, really. Before I decide to relax by the falls, though, I start back towards that the train station.

The middle of the jungle is actually a great place for a train station. Well, for me it is, at least. At least out here I can get around fast enough without being swarmed by fans. I still can't belive it myself, I mean it's been two years since I saved _anyone_ and people are still thanking me. The question of, 'did I really help all these people?' comes up a bit more than regularly now. I don't like to sound ungrateful, but I think that the time has come for everyone to move on.

Anyway, I climb up the tall wooden stairs and look at the empty platform. Next to nothing has changed here. It's almost as ever lasting as the water… hmm, I like how that sounded, I should write it down somewhere. The wooden terminal has only one alteration; a small computer which stands on an iron pole. It's no taller than a pay phone, complete with a coin slot and wires running from it into the unseen tunnel.

These computers have been stationed almost everywhere nowadays. They have some lavish name but even I prefer to just call them 'uneconomic'. You see, they're used in the taxi and train industry, and they are used by any one person to summon up a taxi or whatever they need for transportation. I'm not the only person who feels this way about the systems, and I try to share vehicles with as many people as possible. Unfortunately for me, not many people commute into the middle of a jungle.

I walk up the computer, put in about five bucks, and tap on the screen a couple times. The screen images flips from information about the trains, to information of Station Square. I don't really pay attention to that part of the process, after all I have lived in Station Square all my life, and I know what a train is.

Stepping away from the computer, I hear a low moan from the tunnel, and in a second about five shuttle cars come speeding out on the tracks. All the doors '_woosh'_ open, and a loud voice says "Doors open."

Regardless of the fact that the entire car is empty, I choose to stand instead of sitting. I don't know why, but I just like to stand while on the trains, it's almost relaxing. And after having the whole Team cramped into a car, well you get used to standing when that happens.

The train comes screaming into the station, and as I step into the throng of people, my back pocket starts to vibrate. As the vibrating turns into a high pitched song, I pull out my silver painted phone. The little screen has 'Sonic's cell' lit up in small white letters. I debate with myself about answering it, until I see people are starting to recognize me. Quickly, I flip the phone open, and then snap it shot before Sonic can say anything. Then I make a break for the doors, emerging onto the street and hurrying away from the station.

By the time I get to my loft, which is about a half a mile from the station mind you, all I want to do is veg out. Thanks to Sonic, I had to take the long way to my building, so I could shake the fans that were following me. Maybe it ain't his fault, I probably would've been spotted anyway, but if he hadn't called me then I could have gotten here without exhausting myself.

I take off my light jacket and toss it onto the coat-tree near the door, before laying down on the couch. My loft is actually a nice place, but with all the running around I do it could be called under-furnished. I only have the basics around, kitchen stuff, a bed, couch, bathroom stuff, and a couple of bookshelves. That and a few plants, namely two hanging rubber trees and a kinda mock tropical plant. Still, I've heard people say they like it, if only for the fact that the majority of the walls are covered in machine designs. About once every two months, I'll have some new inspiration and take down some of the blue prints to replace them with new ones, but I never throw the old ones away. I have a couple of photo albums filled to the brim with those blue prints.

Personally, I find I like Rouge's penthouse more than my loft. It may be because she has such a good eye for décor, what with gems and ferns and all. Or it could be because she spends more on furniture than I do. I never really thought about it, and I don't really like to. You never notice when your do it, but when you think about someone else's faults, they fall a little in you mind's eye. One could say that's what happened to Sonic with me, or it might just be that we never really knew each other.

Whichever way you put it, Rouge has a very nice place, and anyone who thinks otherwise is lying.

I open my eyes. I'm not tired, just kinda lazy and fatigued. No one ever said that you had to have a lot of stamina to be a Hero, sure it helps but it's not like it's a requirement. My eyes move around the room, until I see that there's a small red light flashing on the answering machine. In all honesty, I should've seen that the moment I came in, but now the only thing I need to ponder is listening. Let's think about this carefully now, I'm nice and comfy where I am, and the answering machine is way the heck across the room. It's not like I _need_ to listen, I could just as easily roll over and veg out for the evening. No one's stopping me.

I roll over, closing my eyes and pretending to sleep.

I roll over again, and look at the answering machine through narrowed eyes.

Then I fall off the couch in a heap. I guess that's what you get for rolling around and being lazy.

With my feet still on the couch and my head turned up from my floor vantage point, I look at the answering machine. I'm up now (so to speak) so I guess I'll listen.

Pulling myself up, I move over to the small blinking machine and press the 'play' button.

"One. New. Message." Says a small monotone voice, with a speech pattern the same as William Shatner's.

There's a small 'click' noise, before Sonic's voice comes through the machine;

"Hey Tai—" I pause it here. I debate with myself on whether or not to hear the rest of the message, I decide to hear him out; "ls! It's me! I just called to tell something big has turned up at the coast! Meet me by the beach to see!" Sonic always, always, _always_ yells when he calls someone, so by now my ears are folded down on the back of my head. And, if you're wondering, he can never tell you what the heck he's calling about. Just that 'something big is going on'.

My mind's giving my conflicting signals. Part of me just wants to forget about this a go back to the couch. But the other part….

Dr. Robotnik's last flying masterpiece, deemed the Egg Guilder, was one of the most fascinating machines I've ever seen. When we found it at sea, its creator's last words and body on the bridge, I made a beeline for the engine-room. That was the great thing about Robotnik, he loved to environment. All of his engines were the height of Green Engineering, using no fossil fuels what so ever. I used to marvel at his ships when we fought, knowing that I couldn't come close to any machine that clean. So when I entered to engine room I was astonished by it all. The Egg Guilder was nearly three miles long, not counting a four mile wing span, and the whole ship looked to be about two hundred tons. Personally, I was amazed it was still floating, even if great orange balloons coated the under side of the ship to keep it above the surface.

Anyway, the engines. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what they were like, but I'll try anyhow. There were rows and rows and rows of turbines, all of them two stories high. Hooked up to these were massive generators, each so big you could rent out rooms in them. From there great corridors led out of the ship, used to channel air out and keep the ship flying. I would have loved to see how it all hooked up with the rest of the ship, but I resisted the urge.

You see, I hold Dr. Robotnik in a part of my mind reserved for respectful hatred. The thing is that while I didn't like him at all, he was very much my inspiration. I can remember working on a plane and thinking 'This'll out do that old man.' or 'He won't stand a chance against this.' To be honest, he was always two steps ahead of me, and even now I'm trying to perfect my craft to beat him in the long run. But because I _do_ respect him as a fellow inventor, I made up my mind not to try and reproduce the engines. They belonged solely to the late Dr. Robotnik.

Now my mind reels at the possibilities. The ship had been sunk by a military squad, so that it wouldn't be too much trouble, but not I wondered what the root of this 'big something' was.

All things considered, I _need_ to know.

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**A bit obtuse, I know, but it's called a cliff-hanger. Like it or not, chapter end here. Anyways, again, please review, and I hope you like where this is all going. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Alrighty then. I hope you all like this chapter, because I know I do. It has more Knuckles, and a phone-in from Rouge. And Sonic, but I don't really care about him so don't get your hopes up for any heroics. Anyway, we hear more of the Egg Guilder, and some other stuff I forgot because I started this a while ago and only just finished it. Heh heh heh, yeah. So, I hope you all like it!**

**Miles 'Tails' Prower, Rouge the Bat, Knuckles, and all other characters expect the names of Miles's family, belong to SEGA. **

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I can't say Sonic hasn't done this kinda thing before, because he does it almost regularly. Maybe he knows I'm too curious not to find out what he wants, or maybe he just thinks I'm loyal, either way I always end up coming. But I'm not going to hurry, I've been good about that lately. It used to be I'd be there the minute my phone rang, but I've been breaking that habit, and I'm glad for it.

Nothing he calls about is _that _important, in fact he's called me for the stupidest stuff. One time he said it was urgent, when it turned out he had just found a shiny rock at the Casino. And no, it wasn't like one of the Emeralds, it was just a piece of sparkly cement. Strangely enough, I can't bring myself to get mad at him; he's got this weird magnetism that makes it almost impossible for anybody to get angry with him. Maybe that's a part of why I admire Dr. Robotnik, he got mad at Sonic tons of times, without even seeming to try.

Still though, I guess it's a classic case of 'curiosity killed the fox', because I'm already on the street and waiting for a cab.

Just as I climb into the taxi and tell the drive to head for Sonic's hotel (the Emerald, which stands right on the beach), my back pocket starts to ring. I reluctantly take out my cell phone, and look at the small, lit up screen. Strangely enough, it's Rouge.

"Hello?" Rouge has next to never called me, she's always away plotting or traveling.

"Miles, hi," She sounds like she's thinking about something. Rouge always does sound that way, but this time it's different. Now she seems to be wondering if something is true. Never a good sign. "Listen, I just got a message from Sonic, and I was wondering if you know anything about it?" Sonic doesn't have Rouge's number, she only gave it to Vector, Knuckles, and me. She, no doubt, suspects that I gave Sonic her number.

"Sorry, I only just got a call from him myself. 'Something big' turned up is all I know." Rouge makes a thoughtful noise on the other end of the line.

"Alright… are you going?" There's a real surprise. Rouge always does what she wants, regardless of what everyone else thinks. Why would she ask something like that?

"Yeah, but if nothing interesting happens, I'm goin' home." She laughs lightly, and I find myself snickering as well.

"Alright then, I might drop in. But if not call me and give me a full report, will you?" Classic Rouge.

"Can do, see you there then?"

"Perhaps, bye." The phone clicks on the other end, and her voice is gone. I hand up, and pay the driver as he pulls up at the Emerald.

Inside the marble lobby, past the stairs and hat-check and the two elevators, you call see Sonic out on the beach. I walk through the automatic glass doors, and out into the sunny pool. I take a good look at the water, but it's just the way it's always been; flat, sapphire blue, and peaceful. It used to be that I'd come out here with Sonic, and he'd teach me to surf (I wasn't good at it) but now I prefer to stay in the city. Peaceful and pretty as the ocean is, I just don't feel right around it.

And whenever I think out here, my head goes straight to the Egg Guilder.

"Tails!"

I wish they hadn't sunk it. I mean, all that machinery and technological advances, now the home to sea slugs and barnacles. It makes me shudder just thinking about it…

"Taaaaails!"

I wonder what I could've done with all that stuff. My planes would be beyond comparison, I could make a generator to power the whole city. I could do _anything_ with that ship…

"Miles!" I hear Knuckles call, and a firm hand falls on my shoulder. I look quickly around, and it's Knuckles.

"Huh?"

"I was callin' ya buddy!" Oh great, Sonic. Knuckles and me look over at the Hedgehog and I see that his belly has reseeded a bit. Needless to say, that's a surprise.

"What's going on?" I cut to the chase. Hey, _he_ took away from _my _vegging time!

"Yeah! Why'd you call you us the hell out here?!" Knuckles barks his hand still on my shoulder. Sonic smiles, his eyes getting an all too familiar shine.

"I was walkin' around here, and I found something in the sand—"

"I'm leaving." I turn and start back towards the Emerald. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Knuckles is following suit.

"Guys wait!" I pause and look back, Knuckles just keeps walk.

"What?" I get irriated quickly when I'm tried, and I don't mean to sound so mad.

"I found this little black box, ya know, in the sand."

A shadow falls over me, and I can just tell that it's Knuckles. I guess me and him share the need for adventure. I don't even need to look to know he's mad.

"And it looks like something from Eggman's old ship…the uh… Egg Gulper?"

"Guilder." I'm thankful that at least I have the nature to remember things like that. Else ways, the memory of Dr. Robotnik would consist only of Egg Gulpers.

I see Knuckles smirk, and I break into a smile myself. It takes a _lot_ to make him smile, but if you get him at the right moment, you can even make him laugh. It's true, I tell you, I've seen him laugh! I think it had something to do with Shadow being _really_ drunk, because I can remember him singing the theme of an old TV show. It sounded something like 'Lord Bravery'. I really don't know where he got it, but we all laughed until we thought we were gonna die!

"Whatever," my brain throbs as Sonic says it. I hate it when he does that, it gives me such a headache. Sonic could never appreciate the marvels of machines. "I found this box, and it looks like a little radio."

He pulls a black, metal square out of his jacket, and tosses it to Knuckles. My head hurts again as the small thing flies through the air. Some of Robotnik's older inventions were _really_fragile, and this looks like one of those.

Luckily, Knuckles catches it gingerly and immediately passes it tome.

I take the box and nod my thanks. Turning the little black thing around in my hands, I find there's next to no weight to it. I can just see that there's some tiny holes on one side, just like a radio has, and the white sigil that marked everything Dr. Robotnik used to make. On the opposite side to the holes there's what feels like cold glass, but I can make out anything on that side.

Knuckles shifts a little, letting some of the sun hit the black box. The light gleams off the back thing, and I can just tell that there's a screen. I try my luck, and tap it gingerly.

"Password?" My ears flick up, and the box vibrates the slightest bit. Knuckles leans in a bit closer, and Sonic doesn't seem to have noticed the little computerized voice. I tap the screen, and a feeble light comes on through the glass.

"Password?" the box says again. Sonic is now right beside me, and he grabs the little machine and makes my head hurt.

"This'll be easy as pie!" he says to us. The box makes a small '_wrrrrrrrrrrrrl_' sound, and the voice comes on again.

"Incorrect password."

Knuckles shakes his head, and I bite the inside of my lip.

Sonic glares at Knuckles, before turning to the box.

"Egg." He says matter-of-factly.

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

Sonic looks angrily at the box, and looks at me like I made it say that.

"This thing's gotta be wrong! Why wouldn't the password be 'egg'?!" Knuckles takes a moment to keep himself from decking Sonic, before he speaks.

"Maybe because _Doctor Robotnik_ had a little thing called 'self esteem'?" Sonic wrinkles up his nose at this, and throws the box at Knuckles.

"Then you figure it out, smart guy!" Knuckles catches the machine easily, and he looks at it for a minute. He glances from Sonic to me, before focusing on the box.

"Password?"

He glances at me again, before saying it a low voice;

"Robotnik?"

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Oh yeah, like that would do anything!"

"Sonic, shut the hell up!" Knuckles hands the machine down to me, and steps towards the Hedgehog, fists up.

"Password?" the box says to me, barely loud enough to be heard over Sonic and Knuckles's arguing. I look over at them, and take a few steps away so the noise won't be so much of a problem. "Password?" I can't think of anything to say…. Maybe it's the Doctor's first name…or his mother's birthday….or the code to a safe…or the name of his first friend….. I always end up thinking that he would think like I do, that he would be so sentimental….

I look over my shoulder at Sonic and Knuckles. Knuckles has Sonic in a headlock.

"Heart attack."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Lemmego ya knuckleshead!"

"You ain't goin' nothing, blue boy!"

I can hear some scrabbling, but I've become desensitized to that kinda noise for a while now.

"Password?" the box says a moment later.

"Dead."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Geroffame ya little—"

"Leggo o' my shoes ya stupid red—"

"Password?"

"Sonic."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Oi! I'm trying to think over here!" I shout, turning on Sonic and Knuckles. Sonic's got Knuckles by the wrists, but Knux has him by the throat. They both look over at me, surprised…well, Sonic is, Knuckles just looks mad. "Jesus," It takes a heck of a lot to make me swear in Jesus's name, my Mama made sure of that. "Do you two know how hard it is to think with you making all that racket?! If you need to beat the hell out of each other at least do _away_ from me!" I'm breathing heavily, and me face is hot. I swear I feel like I'm about to beat-up the both of them!

There's a long and really awkward pause. My anger drains away as fast as it came, and I can't help feeling stupid. I hate it when I snap like that.

Knuckles is first to move. He drops Sonic in the sand, and moves over to me with his eyes turning kinda dark. To be honest he seriously freaks me out when he does that, but I don't let him see that. I promised myself never to look scared around the Team anymore. I'm past that part of my life now.

He's towering over me now, and staring at me with this weird and almost lifeless look. I try my best to get our eyes locked, but most of my brain is telling me to make a break for. It's the stupid and prideful parts that are keeping me looking at him. I focus on keeping my fur from bristling, and have some success in that, so all isn't totally lost.

I can just see Sonic looking at us like we're really scaring him, but I don't care at this point.

"I ain't gonna treat you no different." Knuckles growls.

"I never asked you to." I snarl back. Mark this day down in history; June 17, 2008; I have never been so terrified in my life.

"Sonic," Knuckles turns just enough so that Sonic can see his face. I don't dare to move, both from fear and for the sake of my own pride. "Get the hell outta here. I don't want you to see this." Mom, Dad, Auntie Liz, Grandpapa, Joey, Sara, little Ike, I love you all.

Sonic, in a showing some _real_ character, jumps up and runs for the hotel. What a two-faced jerk.

Knuckles turns back to me, after a moment, and his eyes are strange. Like, they're…normal. He looks at me, and behind him again, and starts to laugh. He's got this weird laugh, like it's just about to be wheezy, but it can't quite get there.

"I can't believe he fell for that!" Wait, what?

"What?"

Knuckles looks at me with the same expression of someone who's got to explain a really good joke. He notices that I don't look half as happy as he does. No, my expression would be better categorized as horrified.

"Look, it's like this. We both know Sonic ain't gonna think for more than five seconds about that thing," he points to the box in may hand. "so I figured it'd be best if I just got him outta here instead of dealing with hours of painful stupidity." He looked at me and I realized that I had been hoping to avoid just that. Please understand, one can only deal with so ignorance at a time.

There's a pause, and I hope to God that I don't look as freaked out as I feel. I really hate looking like I don't understand something. It's a problem I have, to the point that I would make stuff up, when we were fighting Dr. Robotnik, on the spot to keep from seeming incompetent.

"So…what'd ya think the password is, then?" It's the best I cans come up with.

"Nah, nothing I'd seriously try." Knuckles says, taking a step closer and robbing the back of his head.

Ten minutes or so later, we're still standing on the beach trying to figure out the password. I've been writing down our passwords, and the list has taken up three pages in my pocket notebook.

"Password?"

Knuckles glances at the list in my hand, before trying.

"Omega."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Damn."

We wait a moment for the box to reload, and I try.

"Guilder."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

We look at each other, it seems we were both thinking that would be the password.

"Password?" I can't take much more of this. I'll try something new.

"Leeches."

"What?"

"Leeches."

"Leeches?"

"Yeah, the little worms that suck blood. Leeches."

"Oh…alright then."

"Password?"

"Leeches." I say matter-of-factly.

_Wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Dammit. I really thought that would work too."

"Why?" Knuckles gives me his trademarked, I don't understand but I know this isn't going to be pleasant look.

"I—I dunno. Well…remember, one of his ships had these huge fish tanks, and some of the fish looked like leeches."

"Oh…hey yeah! I'd forgotten that!"

I think for a little, and something comes to me.

"Hey, didn't the Doctor used to put those little animals in his inventions?"

"Uhh…yeah I think he did."

"Then why would he have fish in tanks, you know like pets, if he put other animals in those horrible machines?"

"I—I don't know." Knuckles looks like he's having an epiphany.

We look at each other for a long moment.

"Password?"

"Animals."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

* * *

**OOOOOOOOH! Cliffhanger! Agian! HAHA! Take _that_ plot! Anyway, hope you liked it, I'll get back with the next chapter soon as I can, loves.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Parrot."

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Miles," Knuckles says, tossing me the box after a good half hour of hoarse and surly password failures. "Let's just forget it! I can't think of anything else, and I've God damned _worked_ with the guy. Just give it up!"

It's dark, and we've moved into the Hotel, but those are the only changes. We still have no idea what the password is, what the box might be, or how we're going to figure those two questions out. I've now half filled up what was once a new notebook. Knuckles has gone hoarse and has a bad headache. Sonic has disappeared, and Rouge has yet to show herself. So, basically, we've hit our breaking point.

"One more, then we can call it quits." Knuckles looks at me, his big hands around his temples. His eyes have their trade marked, why-are-you-doing-this-to-me-,-do-you-have-a-death-wish-or-something look.

"You said that forty passwords ago."

"Well this time I mean it."

Knuckles glares at me, then turns back to look at the marble floor with a grunt of pain. He gets pretty bad headaches, probably because he gets into so many fights. Or maybe because of the Master Emerald, I never really asked. It never really came up, you know?

Through the old (and I mean _old, _like thirties music _old_) jazz playing in the lobby, I hear the box ask its question. And then my mind goes blank. Not that forced blank that so called 'psychic' use, but the kind you get when you see the test you were studying for. The kind that makes it thoroughly impossible for you to think _at all. _

_"…That Swing!"_ the singer from the hotel music says. I wonder for a moment what the Hotel manager would do to me if I jumped up and ripped at the speakers out of the walls. He might thank me…

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

"Tell me something I don't know." I grumble to myself. Knuckles makes a pained and angry 'Aaaaggggh!' noise, and I know that'll be the end of it.

"Sirs?"

I look up, and find a pudgy human with a big pink face and a mustache that looks both like it's been painted on, and like it has been curled far too much. I'd recognize the hat check guy anywhere, I see him often enough.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sirs, but you seem to be upsetting our other costumers." I look past him (which is not easily done, mind you) and see a small girl in a frilly pink dress pointing and screaming in our direction. Her mother (at least the woman seems to be her mother) is trying to quiet her, but to little avail.

"No problem, we were just leaving." Knuckles pulls himself up, his dark clothing making him look out of place in the fancy lobby, and stalks towards the door. I get up from my seat and head after him, hopeful it will be quieter in the street.

I get lucky sometimes. Like one time when I was walking around, just trying to think, and this car comes screaming around a corner and is charging towards me. I'm too scared to move, and just as I'm about to meet my fuel injected doom, the driver slams on the brakes and the car stops only a foot from me.

Anyway, I get lucky, and it's one of those precious quiet nights in the city. I hurry to catch up with Knuckles, and by the time I get to him he's just about to enter the train station.

"Hey, ever heard of 'good bye'?" I get mad when people aren't polite; I just get pissed off when people are like that. Weird, huh?

"Yeah, I could never pronounce the first part is all." Knuckles has a strange way of joking. He's funnier when he doesn't try to be, like when he's mad, or has a headache, or is mad about having a headache. I don't think he notices it, but his 'tough-guy' composer fades when he's mad. He flails his arms and his eyes get real big and his pupils get smaller. If you're not the one he's mad at, it's hilarious to watch.

"Well then, bye."

"Alright, bye." He's rubbing one of his temples again, and I want to tell him that doing that can make a headache worse, and that he should just go home a take some aspirin. But that would get me a hard knock on the shoulder, so I keep my mouth shut.

"I'll call you if something comes up."

"Uh huh." He turns into the station and is gone without another word.

I like to walk through the city when it's quiet, especially in the fall because it's not all hot and sticky. This is one of those nights, and as I stroll mildly through the semidarkness, I see the sights you only see in the neon lights of a big city. There's lots of couples in restaurants (which reminds me of my empty stomach…) and some kids hanging in the darker corners or the street. There's steam boiling up from a nearby sewer hatch, and taxis zipping along like great big bugs in the road. An older bat with black fur and a silvery mustache is just leaving a bar (I can see there a rooster made of red neon lights in the window of the bar).

You only see this stuff in the city. You can't just see pictures of it, or stuff like it in movies, you need to actually be walking through the street as it happens to get the real feel of it. There's really nothing like it, probably because you don't quite feel as if you're a part of it all. When you walk through a quiet city, you don't feel anything because there's nothing _to_ feel. No wind, no moonlight, no emotion even. The city just swallows up emotions, moonlight, wind, all that, and you're left with a tangled mass of buildings, lights, and taxis. And hurt feet if you walk too long and miss your apartment building, like I just did.

I turn around and move in front of my building. The place is almost identical to the other buildings, except that it has a door man wearing a dark red suit at the front. I can see the tip of his cigarette through the semi-darkness, and he blows out a puff of smoke as I walk up to him.

"Hey, Mike." As much as being impolite irks me, there's no need for over kill. If you know someone, nonchalance is acceptable.

"Hey Miles." Mikes says, around his cigarette. He pushes the door open for me, as that is his job, and I move into the well lit building.

To the left of the door is a door that leads to the superintendent's office, there's a hall leading into the apartments on the ground floor and a staircase that leads to the rest of the rooms. Station Square being the size it is, you'd figure the whole place would bustling, even at night. Another misconception. The city is big and full of people, but the apartments here aren't too well known (which makes it the perfect place for me) so no too many people rent out places here.

I pull myself up the stairs, around the landing that leads to the second level, and start onto the next staircase up. It may have been my childhood experiences, but for some reason I don't like being near the ground level of buildings, too much time spent up in the air I suppose. Having spent all that time flying around has made me worry about those weird diseases you hear about, the kind you can only get at really high altitudes and such. But I have yet to start seeing through my feet, or grow any unexplained dumps, so I don't worry about that stuff as much as I could.

Finally, opening the door to the stairway and stumbling into the hallway, I move to my door. '_79-C_' is painted in black on the door, and there's a small rectangular mail box set into the wall beside the door. I look through what little glass can be seen around the dark brass design on the front of the mail box, and there's only a rolled up magazine and two or three letters.

To be honest, I'm too lazy to reach all the way into my pocket to get the key to the mail box and put it into the lock, turn it, pull the little door open, reach in a get the mail, close the door, and then enter my apartment. So I just reach into my pocket, get the key to my apartment, put it into the lock, turn it, and push the door open. Again, I toss my jacket onto the coat-tree, and plop done on the couch.

And I fall onto the soft cushions; I look over to the kitchenette, my eyes focusing on the fridge. My stomach gives a lurch, and a low rumble fills the room. And so it is decided. Pulling myself up from the safety of the couch, and moved sluggishly into the small kitchen, and pull open the fridge door. Yogurt, lettuce, carrots, old cake, six pack, water jog, batteries, various lunch meats, cheese, butter, half a lime, applesauce…

The fridge door falls closed, and I feel myself stomach rumble again. Not too mach other people are as picky about food as I am, but for me there are certain things you only eat at one time or another. So lunch meat isn't eaten for dinner, and neither is old cake. I stare hungrily at the advertisement for pizza that is hanging from a magnet on the fridge. Let's think about this, pizza that has probably been under a heat lamp for an unknown amount of hours, or lunch meat for dinner…

I pull the… the, uh… The part of a dial phone you speak into, that part, off of the receiver and start turning the numbers round and round on the dial. I love dial phones, if I could carry one around with me in the place of a cell phone I would, but no one makes them anymore, and they're real hard to find nowadays. When I was younger, my Mama used I get so mad because I was endlessly picking apart the phone, and rebuilding it into who knows what. Those were the salad days.

"Patsy's Pizzas," A gruff voice says through the mouth piece.

"Uh, yeah. I'll take, uh," I look at the ad on the fridge, looking for something good. "A medium pepperoni."

"Where to?" the voice asks.

"Apartment 79-C, at 1327 Bright St."

"That'll be forty-five minutes."

"Ri—" the line goes dead before I can says thanks.

I lean against the fridge, setting the mouth piece down on the receiver. My hand traces the outline of the box in my pocket, and I realize I had almost forgotten about it up till now. Pulling the little thing out, I see the small screen light up again.

"Password?"

I think for a moment. Maybe Doctor Robotnik would use a name…

"Miles?"

_Wrrrrrrrrrrl._

"Incorrect password."

I glare at the little machine, thinking all the evil things I think when one of my inventions goes wrong. Keeping myself from hurting the thing, I put it down on the counter beside me and move away. Maybe the machine has no password, or maybe it isn't that important. It's been years, anything Robotnik might've had plan is probably rusted away by now.

I lay down on the couch again, pulling my mind away from the machine and more towards dinner. And my brain doesn't move from that spot for a good forty-five minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Be forewarned, this chapter has something in it I've always wanted to see. Knuckles gardening. I'll keep it short, I don't own these characters, I just own the story you're reading.  
**

* * *

The engines of the Tornado 4 lurches and sputters around me as I make for the speck that's set above the vast ocean. It's been nearly three months since I've seen Knuckles, and it's only for old times sake that I'm even going back to see him.

As I speed through the air, blue flames from the engines billowing behind me, I can make out the outline of mountains on Angel Island. A lot has happened up on those peaks, it was amazing that they still stood after all the crashes and missiles and general fighting that has hit the rocky surfaces. There's a rocky valley at the foot of the mountains, and it's got just enough of a curve to it that it collects rain water and forms a small lake. I don't know what Knuckles would do if that little valley weren't there. Needless to say, it's a bit of a stretch to get tap water on a floating island.

Past the valley it's mostly forest, which then turns into a clearing with the Master Emerald's Altar sitting in the center of it. There's a small stony square not too far from the Altar, and it's just smooth enough to land a small plane.

I make for the small landing patch, pulling up gently as I reach the ground and tapping at the buttons and levers that work the landing gear. As the wheels pop out from under me and ease on the smoothed stone, the engines lurch again and die with a low growl.

As the engines die and the small lights on the control board flicker off, I push up on the glass covering over the cockpit. The Tornado 4 has a cockpit similar to those on World War II planes, with curved glass over the seat and controls. More than once I've heard that those kinds of things a dangerous, but I can't help liking the way it feels when you're all the way up in the air and you can see this huge blue sky all around you. It's one of the few pleasures of being that high up, that free feeling.

Climbing out of the Tornado, I sit on the nose of the plane for a moment, before jumping the rest of the way to the ground. Unlike its predecessors, the Tornado 4 has a pitch black paint job, and is the tallest of my planes. Despite the fact that it isn't too long across, the whole thing raises a good five feet off the ground, and has a couple rungs on the side for one to climb high enough to reach the cockpit. I don't really know why I made it so tall, but the extra height has left me with plenty of room to install more weapons on the underside of the plane. That, the excess of weaponry, can be explained by the fact that I like the idea of being ready for a fight, and a good deal of paranoia left over from fighting Doctor Robotnik.

Pulling my head away from my beloved plane, I look around and see something I never really noticed before. The ocean. It's sounds idiotic, but I never noticed it there. Whenever I was here I was either just dropping in or too busy with some complex battle plan. Now that I see it, I realize what a great thing it is, to be on a floating island. The waves far below are all a dark blue, with white caps and twisting shadows making every inch on it seem new. There's no land (with an altitude of over eleven feet) for miles out here, and you can just see the water as it stretches further and further out until it's just a fine sapphire line. The sun has baked the further reaches of the ocean a warm gold, and the sky and sea almost seem to meet. It was always a strange thing for me to grasp, the sea. It always seemed like it was dark and unchanging, ancient and stubborn, knowing and ruthless. You never think about it, but the water is not your friend. It could easily force you down and pour into your lungs until you feel like they're burning and you can't move for all the weight pushing on you. And just like that you'd be dead, with the sea ready to grad its next victim.

I shudder at the thought, glad I never seriously tried surfing. I once heard that back before people really understood that animals could talk and all, humans would kill animals that were afraid of water. If that were still true, I would've been shot a long, long time ago.

I turn away from the view of the sea, and I can just make out the side of Knuckles's stack. I move around the Tornado, and pick my way through the overgrowth that covers the path leading to the Altar and the shack. It amazes me that Knuckles can stand to live with all these overgrown thickets and a long gnarled branches leaning everywhere. If I had to live here instead of him I probably would've taken a torch to all this years ago. How can he live with all these nasty looking weeds twisting around everywhere?

The shack, in all its single-storey-few-roomed glory, comes into view and it's a relief to have the overgrowth gone from the path. Plants, outside of those weird plants that can live in water, can't grow very well when they get too close to the Emeralds, so most of the flora on the Island shrinks away from the Altar. Even the grasses slink away and the whole of the Altar stands on firmly packed sandy, stony earth.

Sometimes I wonder how Knuckles can feel around for the Emerald, but it's probably some kind of ancient 'magic'. I can't remember ever believing in real magic, for me there's always been a logical explanation. The idea that Echidnas, when they were more populous, did rituals that would link them to the Emeralds is a possibility. Ancient civilizations are known for doing that kind of thing. But it doesn't really fit, Knuckles has no memory of actually being part to a civilization like the Aztecs, or Echidnas, so we can't be sure if he was born before or after the whole of the society collapsed. He might just be magnetic, or attracted to the frequency of the Master Emerald.

The thought of Knuckles being dragged unwilling towards a large sheet on metal and being stuck there brought a smile to my face. My mind can think up some crazy stuff, but the imagery that goes along with it is always funny. I guess it's like I think up caricatures of everyone, with big cartoony eyes and overly exaggerated expresses.

Anyway, I move to the front door, and just as my knuckles connect with the wood, I start to hear whistling. There's no pattern to it, just a few dry notes in the air. I listen for a moment, and can tell that it's not coming from inside. Following the sound, I move around the shack, and just as I'm about to turn the poke my head around the back the whistling picks up sharply. I stop and listen, and in an instant I remember the tune. It's old music, like thirties _old _and it sounds like the song 'It Don't Mean a Thing'. I can only place it because it's the song my Mama always likes to sing with she's working in the kitchen. If she isn't singing it herself she's got it playing on the radio, she sure does love it. She was so proud and happy with me when I went up to her and started singing it in my off beat, tongue-tied little voice. I was three or so then, and she's still playing it when I see her nowadays.

Just as I remember the words to the song, the whistling goes into a completely different tune and I come tumbling out of my thoughts. Enough messing around, and I pop my head around the side of the cabin. My face gets hot and my eyes go wide, and have to bite my lip to keep from breaking into a fit of laughter.

There's Knuckles, whistling to himself, a small spade shoveling fresh dark earth away from a small patch of well kept daisies. He's got white gloves on, and I can see what looks like light red padding under the fingers and palms. His knuckles poke out from tears in the strong knit cloth. And I can just make out small flower patterns sewn into the gloves.

He's got what could be an apron hang around his neck, but not tied off behind him. There's no design (that I can make out) on it, but it has a pocket on the front that's bursting with small seed-packets. A few on the packets are littered on the ground around him, but that's not what really got my attention.

It's the fact that he has a long sunhat resting upon his head that gets me. The thing is long in the front and back, and has what looks like a red ribbon tied around the bulge in the middle where one's head goes. The hat shields Knuckles's head from the sun so well that I almost miss the thin pinkish tie that goes from the sides of the hat to a firmly tied knot under his chin.

I can't take it anymore, and I make a loud snorting sound just as I let the laughter take me over. My back flops against the side of the cabin, and my eyes squeeze shut as I laugh more and more. I can see a shadow over me, and I open my eyes, only having to close them again as Knuckles stands, his hat and other gear making him look like an angry housewife. I saw some dirt on his cheek, so he most've jumped when I laughed and dropped his spade.

Over my howling and cackling and whooping, I hear Knuckles grumble to himself, but I'm too far gone to care. On and on I go, laughing and howling and giggling, gasping for breath and then cackling even more. Finally, after what might be two minutes or might be ten, I open my eyes and stifle what laughs have yet to escape.

"Hey there." Says I, smug as can be.

Knuckles gives me his death glare, but I ride it off and smile up at him. It's weird, I get this superior feeling when I get to laugh at someone, and I start smiling at them and making sly comments that aren't as sly as I think they are. But I don't care because I feel so high above them.

"How're you?" I ask cheerfully, as he lowers his hat so it hangs around his neck, just above his apron.

"This doesn't leave the Island." He says, near anger. He points at me with a newly de-gloved hand, and I just smile at him.

"Of course it doesn't," I say happily. My smile takes on a look that is only for my species. Foxes are the only people who can be smug and sly and happy in the same smile, and we tend to use this power to our advantage. "How're you?"

"Shut up, will you." He's not mad, but annoyed, and I can see his hands headed for his temples. Have I already given him a headache? If so, it's a new record for me, normally we don't get on one another's nerves until about three hours into it.

He makes a pained expression, and I stand up, more seriously. Knuckles looks like he actually in pain, despite his outfit. His teeth are bared, and his eyes and closed tightly.

"Hey, Knux, you alright, man?" I move over to him, a press my hand to his shoulder. I almost pull away when I feel how bristled his fur is and how rigid the muscles underneath are. Almost. My fingers curl in his prickled fur and I keep watching his face. His ears are back, his fingers pressing to his temples. My free hand moves to his ear, the one nearest me, and I pull it up again. "Knuckles!"

I feel bad about shouting in his ear, I know that hurts pretty bad, but he doesn't seem to be in his head, let alone his ears. He doesn't respond, and I release his ear and it flaps down instantly. Then I realize what this must be.

Letting go of Knuckles's shoulder, I run around the side of the shack and head straight towards the Altar. Up the stairs and falling to my knees at the base of the huge Emerald, I grab the big thing by what facets I can fit under my palms and start talking to it. Screw magic! Screw science! Something's up and I'm going to stop it!

"What's wrong with him?! Why's he in pain?!" Nothing happens. "What the hell's wrong with you ya stupid rock?! He's your Guardian, at least _try_ to be helpful, will you?! If he dies there'll be no one to protect you 'cause you probably already killed other Echidnas and I sure as hell won't protect you! Now what the hell's wrong?!" There's a moment when I just sit there, my hands on the cold stone and my body shaking with rage. I hate to see people in pain, and yelling at a gem doesn't help my anger.

Then a dull light comes on inside the facets Emerald and it shifts until it looks like the view of the ocean.

"Oh shut up! Yes, I'm afraid of water, whoop-de-fucking-doo-for-you! Now either help me or I shove you in that water!" The picture doesn't change. I pull myself and just as I'm about to try and lit the Master Emerald, I see what it meant.

Out across the sandy part of the Island, the blue water is being disrupted but what looks like a tentacle. It's a huge gray thing and it's all shiny from the water. I let go of the Master Emerald, then put my hand back on its flat top and think for a moment. Things like that don't just happen out of the water like someone looking for their morning paper. Things like that only come up when there looking for something, and I know that I'm standing right next to that something.

"Good Gem." And I off again, down the stairs and towards Knuckles shack. He's moved to lean against the side of the cabin, but in a moment I've grabbed one of his wrists and am pulling him towards the path back to the Tornado 4. But before we can get out of sight of the Altar, Knuckles is off towards the Master Emerald. "No! Not that way! Plane over here!" I run after him trying to get a hold on him again, but he's moving to fast for me to stop him. Damn it all, why's he got to be the strong one?!

I run, stumbling now, up the steps to the Master Emerald, and try to pull Knuckles back from the gem. He doesn't budge, and I can see more tentacles reaching up out of the water and heading for us. I run to the other side of the Emerald, and try to push it back so he'll have to move back, but it's too heavy for me to even push it. Back at his side, holding my aching side with one hand as I pant from exhaustion, I try to push him back with my remaining strength.

And just as I thought I felt him move as I pushed at him, his hand whips around and I'm sent down the steps, landing on the hard ground on my back. I can't—he's too—air…I lie there, gasping like a fish, until I feel my lungs bulge in my chest and cold air floods through me. And just like that I'm up again. Only now I'm headed for the Tornado 4. I run like never before, punching and kick and cursing at the weeds as their sharp leaves and prickers and spines and vines pull and cut at me. I jump and bound over the ground, until the big black plane comes into view.

In a second I'm up at the cockpit, my legs dangling down and my hands pulling the glass casing over me as I fall ungracefully into my seat. The engines roar to life as I begin pounding blindly at the controls, and the whole lurches into the air, my stomach knotting and my eyes blurred with sweat.

And just like that I'm over the big, flat, blueness and turning the plane up into the sky and back to Knuckles. I try to circle around and spot him, but he's nowhere to be seen. My eyes dart to the great tentacles that are speeding towards the Island, and my thumbs slam down on the buttons that direct the machine guns. The _rata-tata-tata-tat_ of the bullets fills the skies, and I see one tentacle writhe in the water. Electric blots spring out of oily black wounds in the smooth grayness of the tentacles, and my mouth opens with more curses.

"You fucking bastard! Leave us be!" More bullets are streaming out form under me, and I pull the Tornado down so it can get closer to the tentacles. Another tentacle writhes and sparks, but it still tries to reach the Island. More bullets pour into it's smooth metal surface, and finally it falls into the water with a great splash. I begin to circle again, and as I bring the plane up and around I can see a red spot trying to beat at the closest tentacle.

My palm hits more buttons, my finger blindly turning knobs until a jet of bright red light pours from the plane and begins to burn at the tentacles Knuckles is grappling with. The thing writhes like the other, and I can see the cords within the great thing being snapped but the heat of my laser. Knuckles fights it more, and I start firing whatever I've got at the other tentacles. I circle and dive and fire and swoop and more drop into the water, but still more reach up at the Island. I dive down closer to the water, and try to laser my way through a tentacle, when I spot a small red dot splashing into the blueness.

In an instant I dive to try and catch him, but he's already in the water and trying to clabber the dark outline under the surface. I pull up, and try to keep the tentacles at bay. I fire at another, my laser searing in to it until it falls into the water with the sounds of squealing circuits. Bullet holes begin to pierce another one, and it too squeals as it falls into the water in a fiery mess.

I circle around again, but this time I don't even look at the Island. I focus on my next target, but my mind tells me I can't keep this up. Soon I'll run out of fuel and drown under my glass casing. All my rage and fear pours out of me as my fingers hit the controls and more bullets fly angrily into the nearest tentacle. I pull up to keep away from the splash, but as I do the great falling thing sends a gush of wind at me and I'm sent off course. The plane barrel-rolls and I'm thrown hard against the cold metal controls, and I taste blood but I don't stop pulling the Tornado out of the dive.

Again I'm circling, and that's when I see the Master Emerald. If I can grab it the tentacles will follow me and Knuckles will follow them and I can get to dry ground!

I dive towards the Altar, trying to get a clear shot. If I can get something around the Emerald… My palm slaps at the controls to the winch that's under the cockpit, and I try to get the thing towards the Emerald. The big metal claw grabs at the air feet from the stone, and I try again, pulling closer than is safe this time. The claw reaches out and I can just see it tighten around the faceted gem, the other Emeralds leaping into the air to keep near their Master. Taking a risk, I dive with the Emeralds down at a tentacle, then turn sharply and go tearing through the air, back towards home.

I try to fly there in a straight line, but the air currents keep making me turn here and there to keep from getting blown backwards. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can barely see with my blurry eyes and my tongue stings and I know my temple is bleeding but I don't care. I need to get back so I can save Knuckles. He's probably gotten himself thrashed by those tentacles, probably half drowned by now. I don't want to think about that, but my brain won't let me think of anything else. That bastard just _had_ to protect his gem, didn't he. Honestly, he's going to get himself killed. If he hasn't already.

I rub my face with my hand, blood smearing my brow, but I can just see Station Square, and I will the plane to move faster, so Knuckles and me won't die. I don't wanna die out here, I wanna die where they'll be able to find my remains, I don't wanna drown…

The city surges under me, and I look blurrily down towards the street. It's almost empty… I pull the Tornado 4 down, my hand stupidly missing the break. Then I hear heavy asphalt being ground against by metal and I lurch forward and then it's all black.

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**Bum-Bum-Bum!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, you all have been very patient, so now I reward you with a new chapter! You now get to see my idea of Miles's family, and you see what has become of our heroic fox!**

**I don't own the characters only Miles's relatives!  
**

**Enjoy!  
**

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I can see weakly through my eyelids, and there's a big red something over me. My eyes open into small slits, and I can see the red thing is a face. The nose is small and flat and black, and the eyes are small and angular and yellowish. There's white on the edges of the chin and on the nose, and long red ears.

"Mai-les! Oh mah baby's fa-inally awake!" I eyes open as the face comes closer and I feel big, strong arms embrace me. My mouth opens and a strangled squeak comes out as Mama holds me in her tight hug. I can feel something in my nose, and I can't feel my legs, but I look all around and know where I am. Hospital, white walls and an bed with a metal frame. Strange thing is, I've never woken up in a hospital before. I had hoped to be in my apartment, but I guess I did something stupid to end up here…

"Mama?" it hurts to speak, but I want to know something. In an instant Mama looks into my narrowed eyes and I know she's ready to tell me anything.

"What…happened?" As sense comes back to me, my head throbs and my brow feels strange, and I can feel my hands are both bandaged up tight.

"Oh Mai-les, we was go-nna ask you that our own selves. What do ya 'member, hun-ey?" Mama has a thick southern accent, and attitude, and you have to have lived with her to understand what she says.

I search through my groggy mind, but I can't—wait, no! there was the Emeralds and I was flying and… and… a…a crash…?

"The Emeralds…there was these—things—chasing me…and I was killing them, but… Knuckles…." I can't speak without my throat burning, and my raspy whisper is almost inaudible. But Mama's listening with her ears straight up, and she nods as I look up at her strangely.

"Here, lemme tell ya'll what we've all been hearin' 'bout it all." She sits at the foot of my hospital bed, and I can see Dad and Sara (my younger sister) and Joey (Sara's twin brother) and little Ike (the baby of the family) and even Grandpapa and Auntie Liz and Rouge and Shadow and Cream and everyone. Except for Knuckles. "We all heard that you was flyin' 'round in yo'r plane, and you was flyin' too low, and you crashed just off the sh-ure. And them little gems was all tangled up in the crash, and that big ole 'Merald done nearly broke. It was only the sand that kept 'em all from goin' ta pieces. And yo'r plane was all—" Mama's voice gets thick and heavy, and Dad comes up and sits beside her and wraps an arm around her big shoulders. Me and him have the same build, and Mama's lots bigger than we are, but we both love her all the same. Rouge steps forward, her face pale and not made up, she doesn't look like she's been getting much sleep. None of them do.

"The plane got totaled, Miles. And when they finally pulled you out you were unconscious and we all thought—" she stops and swallows and starts again, "We all thought you were gone. But the medics were there and they said that you were just barely still alive, and they said that the glass over the cockpit must've shielded you from the asphalt that got torn up when you hit the ground." I have a moment when I feel like I smile, but there's no telling what it looks like. It's kinda hard to make any express with pipes stuck up your nose. So glass cockpits ain't so dangerous after all.

Rouge continues, "And when you hit the ground there were these weird tentacles following you. And they made a go for the Master Emerald, but Sonic was there and he grabbed them before the tentacles could. It was just lucky the police were there, otherwise those things would've torn up half the city, the way they were chasing Sonic." I look at Rouge as my vision gets ever so slightly sharper. Maybe it's that I've never seen her without makeup, but she looks… well, I don't want to say she looks more beautiful this way… she looks more, real, I think that's the way to put it. When she's got her makeup she has this confidence about her and that makes her kind of surreal, but now I can see the emotion in her eyes and they shine despite the redness creeping into their corners. It's so weird, but she's just as good looking without makeup as with it…

I look all around at the others, and they all have the redness in their eyes, especially my family. Sara and Joey (who have the same high cheek bones and big green eyes) both look like they've aged, and as their older brother it's weird for me to see that in them. They've always looked like little kids to me, all innocent and sweet and maybe too trusting, but still good. And Dad's facial fur is paler and longer than usual, and I can see dark circles under the fur around his eyes. Shadow is kinda sloughed over and his eyelids aren't the way they normally are, now they fall heavily over his eyes from exhaustion instead of disdain. Auntie Liz has let her hair (which she tends to like a madwoman) grow out and it hangs unevenly and in harried tendrils around her ears and face. Amy has her normally pursed lips in a tight line, and her perfect posture seems more forced now than it was before. Vector, who has to stand strangely in one corner because he's so tall, looks like he's been out in the snow, his scales aren't smooth and he keeps moving his jaw around nervously. Espio just looks tired, really, truly, exhausted to his very bones. And I've never seen Charmy sit so still. And Sonic… His smile is gone, his quills are bristled and they sit uncomfortably on his back, his ears are back and his jacket and clothes seem to be covered with the grease found on someone who hasn't slept for a good long time.

The only person in the entire room who doesn't look completely diminished, is Grandpapa. He's just sitting there in his wheelchair, a blanket across his lap, his old, pale blue eyes surrounded by thick white fur, his big plume of a tail slipping over the side of his chair, his hands folded on his lap and his long white ears dropped comfortably at the sides of his head. He's at peace, I can tell because he and I like to spend time together and I know that look, and he sits there looking at me with the look of someone who expects that they'll win a card game. I watch his nearly milky eyes, and follow them back to Mama, and as I look at her I see him move in his chair and I know he knows something. Grandpapa doesn't like to say things out right, but when he trusts you enough to tell you something, he'll make it clear wants up. And it's clear he wants me to comfort his daughter.

"Mama," I want to reach out to her, but I can't get my arms to lift the thin hospital sheet. Her shoulders move and she looks at me with her small and sensitive yellow eyes focus on me. And just like that she's hugging me again and Grandpapa winks at me and I let my eyes close as I lose myself in her big warm arms.

I can't think of what happens after that. Maybe I was asleep, we're all really tired. But the next thing I know they're all gone and I'm by myself in the hospital room. The place is small, but it has a window and I can just see the street from here. There's my bed, and a stand beside that and the wall opposite me has a door in it and next to the door the wall turns into another window about half way up, so I can see people going this way and that through the glass. Not to seem nosy, but I like to watch people, and from what I can see it's a fairly clam day. Nurses come and go, and some people in long lab coats are going around, most of them looking at gray clipboards.

A few other people go by my window, some in their normal clothes, some in those little dresses you see actors who play sick people wear, one or two guys in janitorial outfits… It's all kinda clam. I watch, and suddenly the air changes, and I see one bloody figure on a gurney goes speeding by, two or three nurses and a pair of doctors racing behind it. And my mind starts to wonder if I came in like that. Rouge said they thought I was dead… did I need surgery or intensive care or did they just patch up the cuts I got when my head hit the controls and try to keep me breathing?

Nothing like this has ever happened to us (the Heroes) before. We all could get out of trouble without too much injury, so what was it like for them? I've seen Shadow go on three-day rampages (either drunk or angry) without batting an eyelid or even thinking about sleeping. Sonic's kept me up for days, talking and talking and talking the way he does. Rouge has to wait for hours, if not longer, when she's stealing something, and Vector and Espio have to keep up with Charmy. Amy's always chasing Sonic, so she has a good bit of endurance, because I know I can barely put up with him, let alone keep up with him. Mama was always in control of us kids, and Sara spent every night studying like a demon for her tests in school. Joey was always out goofing around and little Ike has that energy you only get from those little, little kids. Dad worked long hours before I started working with the Heroes, and Auntie Liz loves to travel so she's used to losing sleep. But Grandpapa… how can he be the most rested of them? He's not a young fox, and yet he just looked at me like he had been waiting at the door for me to answer…

I think about what they all must've done while I was out. I know Mama was right at my side, praying the way she does whenever someone get sick. Sonic was probably here too, he looked like he hadn't moved from his spot in that chair for days. Sara and Joey must've been out at work with I hit the ground…had they come here with Mama and Dad or had they been coming whenever work allowed them? Rouge looked like she had been trying to keep busy, probably to settle her nerves. Shadow…

I look around again, and when I look out the wall-window, I see a nurse in red scrubs coming up to my door. She opens the door and walks in and puts a tray of hospital food beside me, and if I wasn't so hungry I'd think twice about my mouth watering. She looks at me, as if I shouldn't be watching her, but there's so many questions I have. Maybe I should start out with the simple ones.

"Excuse me?" she turns, she was nearly out the door, "I'm sorry, but I can't remember where all those people went." I feel really stupid asking, but I can't help it, I was tired. She looks at me the way someone looks at you when you ask a question that's almost too stupid to ask.

"They left." I almost say something like 'well yes, that's obvious,' but I hold my tongue. She's a nurse, she has to put up with a hell of a lot daily, and if I insult her she might infect air into my bloodstream and kill me. A lesson to the wise, never piss off nurses.

"Well, when did they leave?" I'm trying to be polite, I really, really am. And sometimes being polite for me makes me sound innocent, but if it gets through to her, then so much the better.

"They left yesterday, around nine. They stayed late after you fell asleep, then they had to leave." She doesn't want to talk to me, I know this. Maybe she has something on her mind, or maybe she just wants to get home and today seems longer to her than it should be. Whatever the cause, she turns back to the door and leaves just like that.

I occupy myself with the tray of hospital food, which isn't too good but it's eatable and there's no telling how long it's been since I've been able to fed myself. My hands are bound up tight, but if I ignore the pain, I can bend them just enough to manage a fork. I still can't feel my legs, but I can see them under the blanket, so at least I know they're still attached. I'm beginning to wish I had a mirror, I want to see if I have a scar or something on my head. My brow feels like there's something pulling it together, like there's stitches there. And my chest has bandages going from my right shoulder to my hip, which makes sitting up kinda hard because they pull at my fur and I can feel the cut under them move around when I sit up. One thing I know is that I'm on painkillers. I've read about plane crashes, and since I survived I should be too pained to move. I'm on something strong, because nothing I look at is clear and my brains starts to wander when I try to think.

I don't know what happened to Knuckles or the Emeralds, and my demeanor is such that the very fact of not knowing something annoys me. So not knowing about things like this is already driving me crazy. If she had stayed longer, I would've asked my nurse, but she probably had another patient or something. My brain tells me that Knuckles is probably washed up somewhere, like he let go of those things on the way back to the city. But I don't want to believe that, he's my friend, and it's more the principle of the thing than anything that keeps me wanting to see him. It's one thing to dwell on someone dying if you know they're dead, but to just think that about a friend crosses a line that ought not be crossed.

Still, it'd be a bit too fantastic for him to have held on all that way. I know he could --can—swim, but, in the ocean…

My mind skips to the tentacle things, and I don't have to think so much to know where those came from. Robotnik, of course. But how? And why just then? Maybe he had some kind of plan, but I can't think of why he'd want to steal the Emeralds after he was dead. Maybe he's not dead…

No, I'm lying to myself. I know he's dead. I saw the corpse with my own eyes. It was him alright. Not a robot, or wax dumpy, real, dead, human. His mustache was real, and so were his clenched hand over his heart and small staring eyes. Unless he has an equally evil twin, Doctor Ivo Robotnik is stone, stone dead.

He is dead, and for all I know, Knuckles might be dead too.

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**Poor Miles, he's on so many painkillers...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yes, a very short chapter. But, I don't know enough about being in a hospital to make it as long as some of its** **predecessors,**** so just bare with me. This is basically just Miles's thoughts while he waits to get better. And yes, you will find out a little about Knuckles.**

**All the characters, expect Miles's family and the nurses, belong to SEGA  
**

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You never think about it when you're living your life normally but, in hospitals at least, it can get kinda slow. I've been in this G.D. bed for what can only think is a month, and I'm ready to go postal. There's nothing, nothing, not one thing, to do here. The doctors won't give me a book or something to do with my hands because they think my brains can't handle the stimulus at this point. The only thing I can do is sit around or go to sleep. It's torture!  
My family and ex-Teammates come and go, just "dropping by." Nobody can bring me much of anything, too much brain stimulus.

I keep trying to be nice to the nurses, when they come in to give me pills or check my blood pressure or iron levels or whatever it is they do. But it's getting harder and harder to be nice and polite when you can feel the whole world racing by without you.

Mama told me how long I was in here, or, gave me a rough idea. Sara and Joey, my younger sidling, were juniors in high school when I left to go see Knuckles. They're three weeks away from graduating now. So, roughly, nine months or so of being completely comatose. I don't remember any of it. They, physiological experts, say that when people are in comas they're supposed to dream, but I don't remember anything. I'm not really the kind of person who remembers dreams, but if you're out for nine months then your brain must be doing _something_.

It's amazing the doctors didn't pull the plug on me. Some experts say that people who have comas like mine are basically dead and will never come out of it, but here I am. Still, it wouldn't have done much, I'm basically dead now, by my standards.

I can't do anything. My hands got really torn up in the crash, and apparently so did my head. And I can't even _feel _my legs. All I can do is talk to my friends and family when they show up and stare blankly at the ways.

I've tried to ask for a second opinion, told the doctors I can control my mind, done everything I can think of to get something to do, but they won't let me. In the crash, I know I hit my head, but does that really mean that I'm mentally unhinged now? The doctors say I move and talk in my sleep, but who wouldn't? When you're stuck in a hospital with nothing to do but remember being chased by giant metal tentacles, who's to say you won't have restless sleep.

And nothing about the God forsaken tentacles either! What the hell happened to them?! Rouge said the police took care of them, but they were made of fucking metal! What did the police do, throw magnets at them? I mean, c'mon, how in the world is it possible that policemen can take down those things?  
I think I know one thing, though. I know that Knuckles is alive, or at least, not dead. There's a line between the two, and I think he'd there. Nobody's told me anything about him, but I can tell he's in really, really bad shape. It's in the way that the Team looks at me. Me, who can't feel his legs and can barely lift his arms and who has bandages wrapped all around his head. They know how bad Knuckles is and I can tell that I got out of the whole thing a lot better then he did.

The doctors won't tell me about him, or even about me. But the nurses are a different story. I have two nurses looking after me; Tyler, a tall-ish black human who seems to like talking to me and has a build that is rather similar to my mother's, and Nayla, a human with the skin color of coffee and shiny black hair who doesn't seem to like anyone. Tyler, or Ms. Robinson (as she likes to be called), has been very kind to me since I woke up. She likes to talk a lot, and that's kinda calming for me. She natters on about the doctors and the treatments and one time she even let me in on the politics of the nurses community. I've talked to her about small things, and she seems to see pretty clearly that I want to get out of here.

She's been nice enough to tell me two things. One: I took a hit to the lower part of my spine in the crash, and that's why I can't feel my legs. Two: The American election I'd been watching like a hawk is over, and Barack Obama won.

I can only hope that the latter is a sign that things will get better.

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**Sorry about that little bit of politics in there, should've warned you. But, there you are. Hope this is enough to keep you all until I can think of something new to put in here! Happy Holidays!**


	8. Chapter 8

**First, I've been having a hard time lately, and I think some of that leaked into this, so be aware that there's some cursing and a lot of anger. Second, Knuckles fans should brace themselves for this chapter, it ain't pretty. Third, this is my third update in the space of about two weeks, so this is a present for all the people who weren't interested in What Makes A Hero? and the newest story, Time Things. So, hope you like this present, and no, it's not Christmas time in the story. It'll be winter when I say it is, dammit. **

**I only own Miles's family.  
**

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A clavicle fractured in two places, three broken vertebra (two others fused together), a collapsed lung, massive blood loss, excepted brain damage and mental trauma, massive muscle damage in every limb (mostly in the arms, chest, and legs), the remaining lung coated with oil and salt water, skin missing around the ears, face, back, and hand, one blow out eardrum, the other nearly deaf, broken wrist, ankles, both femurs, most of the bones in the legs and in the feet, five of six broken ribs (all of them 'floating'), drop jaw, broken nose, most of the bones in a hand broken clean, oil residue in some marrow, tendons throughout the chest, legs, and a few in the neck ripped, incapable of breathing without the help of machines, possibility of never walking again, hole in the right side of torso (healing too, too, too, too slowly) broken teeth, part of tongue missing, heart laboring constantly, no evidence of thought of scans, major organs in lower body laboring but barely working, and a missing left arm.

The remains of Knuckles now lie on a medical bed, in a tube that breathes for him, hooked up to I.V.'s, with a mental-wave-thing-detector next to him, and a pulse machine that 'bleeps' too slowly and not often enough. And, of course, he doesn't have health insurance, the fuckingly stupid son of a bitch.

Mama told the doctors to cover him with my plan, which means I have to pay for both of us, even if we both die. One of us will probably go, and I think it's gonna be Knux, 'cause I'm now well enough to get around in a wheelchair. After about four months from coming out of my coma, of course. If I go, then they'll probably pull the plug of Knux anyway because I won't be around to pay for the plan (another thing Mama took care of while I was out).

I just—I don't know anymore. He's so—so—_stupid_. He just—just—_does_ shit that he knows'll kill him, but he fucking does them anyway. I mean, how dumb do you have to be?! I've been in danger, but I never _tried_ to be there. He's probably trying to prove something, that he's tough or strong or doesn't need others or some shit like that. But if he wants to live, he God damned needs that doctors! Does he even want to live?!

Must not, since he's always so fucking dumb. It must suck to have to protect that gem, maybe he does have a death wish. I'll ask Shadow about it, when I see him. He'd know about death wishes.

I've healed a bit. My arms are getting some strength back, so I don't have to be wheeled everywhere. My legs aren't doing well, but their attached, and the doctors said they might get stronger if I took some time to exercise them a little. Weights mostly, around the knee of ankle, and lift them as much as I can until it hurts.

They've allowed me to leave the hospital, but Mama has me staying with her a Dad because their apartment is closer to the hospital than mine is. Grandpapa and I play cards a lot, to pass the time, and he's taught me about how to keep my tails in the chair so the fur doesn't get pulled on by the wheels. You gotta coil them behind you, or fold them over your lap. Either way you end up looking kinda like a girl.

My old room is small, but it has room for my chair beside the bed and it has a mirror, which is nice.

My mirror brings very some comfort. When the Tornado crashed… well, when planes of any kind crash, several things happen at once. One of them being the engines overheating and setting almost everything on fire (I have been told that is why my hands and chest are bandaged up), and the pilot is jerked forward. Which explains why I had to be hooked up to a breathing machine. But there's one thing I didn't know about. When a plane crashes, anyone inside… well… the skin and hair on the tops of their heads comes off. Yes, scalp up and off of the head.

So I now know that if I even was the kind of guy who goes out of his way to get a boyfriend, none of 'em would look at me twice unless they wanted to see my skull.

So, my ears and head have been bandaged up to A) stop blood flow. B) try to keep others from having to see my skull. And C) keep air from getting into my brain. There is some weird procedure that the doctors call 'skin-graphing' that they think I should undergo, but it's kinda untested and I'm sure it'd be expensive. Normally, I wouldn't worry too much about expenses, but I've been out of it for nine months and I have no idea how much treatment for comas costs. And, of course, I have to pay for the treatment of Sir Dumbass of Masochism Beatings.

Apparently skin-graphing is when the doctors… _make_ new skin for you, and put it over your horrible, bloody, bony wound. It sounds horrible and expensive, so why wouldn't I want it?!

I don't know what it is with me… I'm just…. Tired. And mad, but mostly just tired. I missed Christmas, Mobila (our version of America's Thanksgiving, but ours is about when the animals revolted against the humans (unsuccessfully), and started a war between the species (homo sapiens and bestia sapiens), Mobila is for the night the war was ended, after both sides had suffered a lot.). I missed Sara, Joey, Dad and Auntie Liz's birthdays, as well as Rouge, Vector, Sonic, Amy, Cream, and Espio's. And, I missed the chance to watch my baby sister and brothers grow up. That hurts the worst. They're not as innocent now, not even Little Ike is the same… Sometimes… Sometimes I don't recognize them…

Sara was all about studying, she wanted to be the first Prowers to go to college, and she's still like that. But now she's getting to be self-destructive about it. If I'd been here she'd be fine, but now she barely sleeps and has almost given up on her social life. She had a few good friends, now she's only chummy with tomes and tests.

Jeoy was always a skater kinda kid. He'd grind on rails and ride his board through his school halls. He loved that thing. Now he still skates but… he's not happy with it anymore. He used to be the kind of class clown guy, now Sara's been getting on him about not being serious about his studies. Normally I'm here to keep the two from fighting, but now Jeoy's had to deal with Sara and with having me in the hospital. He's loosing interest in everything he used to like, but he's not picking up anything new. Just giving in to inertia. Mama's worried, but doesn't want to pressure him, he gets too much of that from Sara.

Ike knew how to walk when I crashed, now he's starting to talk coherently and can run around. I tried to play with him the way we used to, I'd pick him up and we'd play 'Plane' together. When I picked him up after I got home, he looked at me, touched my nose and said; "Hi mishter." He only calls people he doesn't know 'mister'. He only touches people he doesn't know on the nose.

I don't know anymore. I just don't. I act like I do, but there's nothing going on up top for me. My repair business folded after I crashed, my mail has piled up, newspapers keep swarming me on the street asking for interviews, I can't get happy. No matter how hard I try, I can't smile. My face just won't let me. There's nothing to do but play cards, help cook, and read. Mama won't let me work on anything, and my mind isn't in the condition for machine-making anyway. I tried talking with Jeoy and Sara alike, but he's unresponsive and she acts like I don't know anything. I feel like this is what Rip Van Winkle must've felt like when he woke up. Granted, his family was dead, but everything had changed…

I wish this was all just a dream… Then I could wake up…

Then Knuckles would be alright and I'd be in my apartment and Jeoy would be happy and so would Sara and Ike would remember me.

I just gotta keep holding on, keep moving. There's gotta be a light at the end of this tunnel. There's gotta. I just gotta keep hoping for it.

Hoping is all I can really do now…

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**Mmm, wrist-slitting good. Feel free to comment. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A very brief one this time loves, but I like it. Any of you who favor Frued's dream theories will probably like it too. Anyway, as explanation for my lateness with this chapter, I would like you all to observe a personal project of mine that has taken up a great deal of my time:**

www. drunkduck .com /Dead_?p=511595

**My own characters, with the exception of Mercutio (he belongs to William Shakespeare). But that's not why you all are here! Please read and enjoy, I own none of the characters!**

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I walk into a big white room that has no windows and no doors. But somehow I still walk in. From floor to ceiling everything is white, and air shifts around but I don't see an air-conditioned. There's nothing in the room except a white hospital bed with a white sheet over it. And from where I'm standing there's nothing under the sheet.

I take a step closer, then another, until I'm standing at the foot of the bed, and I look down at the sheet.

The air shifts around, so that it blows at my back, and I watch as red stains start to appear on the sheet. One of them, starting in the middle, grows and grows until the center in dark brown and it covers the whole sheet. Then something starts to grow under the bloody sheet. First a torso, under the blanket, then feet more near me, then an arm sprouts from the right shoulder, then a head. The hair is long and red, and hangs over the face, but I get the feeling the eyes are on me.

The thing sits up but stays hunched over, and somehow I can see its vertebrae pushed up under the red fur on its back. As the thing sits up I feel a tremor go through me, and I start shivering uncontrollably. I take a step back, and as I do the blood on the sheet flows freely onto the floor, pouring on the white tiles faster than physics says it should. It cascades down, circling my bare feet (for some reason I don't have shoes on) and I feel the tips of my tails get heavy and warm in the liquid.

The thing in the bed moves its hand to push aside its hair but the red strands fall back into place as soon as the hands move. Still, I see two golden orbs point straight at me, despite the fact that the owner of this body had purple eyes and despite the fact that the hair should be too thick for me to see them.

As the eyes close onto me I forget about the blood and move up to the bed, hell I run up to the thing. The blood fights as I hurry through it, some of it drying around my feet to keep me where I am, but I push through and make it to the bedside. The eyes follow me as I grab hold on the body and close my arms around it. Not so much hugging as a holding on.

But just as my arms wrap around the stub of shoulder and the arm on the other side, the body feels like it's popped, the way a balloon feels when the skin breaks. And then the whole thing turns to water, and flows down from me and into the blood.

I think I open my mouth to scream, but I'm not sure. As soon as the water falls into the blood everything goes black and I feel like I'm falling backwards through nothingness. My lungs empty, and as I feel something coming up behind me, I wake up.

My body lunges up, my legs aching in the act but my mind ignores the pains.

I sit there, breathing deeply, shivering although it's not cold in my room, and let the darkness close around me. I feel it in my fur, a stillness that almost feels like a living presence but offers nothing that a living thing could.

My heart hammers in my chest, and I don't need to put my heart over my breast to feel it. I wait in the dark, telling myself that everything will be alright when I calm down. As I wait, the dream slips from my mind, until I can only remember the feeling of blood of my tails. Nervously I grab at them, pulling them up to my chest the way I did when I was younger and had a nightmare.

Calming down enough to use my hands without having them shake violently, I reach over to my bedside table and take up the small journal that lies there. Doctors' orders, gotta record my dreams. Beside the journal I know there's a pen, and I take that up in my left hand and open the book on my lap. I scribble down notes of everything I can remember. Blood everywhere, one arm, white room, gold eyes.

As I finish that brief note I feel the rest of the nightmare bleed away from me, escaping from my mind into the darkness and then on into the world. I sit in bed and shiver a bit more.

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**Sometimes I think I'm gonna go to hell for all the things I put characters through. What do you all think of that?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey ya'll, just dropping in before the summer starts. Sorry about the delay with the stories, I haven't been able to write anything that's not for school in forever. But, here's another dream squence for you. **

**All characters belong to SEGA  
**

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I hear the pounding of war drums, made of hides so thick that the sound rumbles through the earth rather than through the sky. I see gleaming spearheads, made of a dark metal with poison dipped copper at the tips. I see temples and market place, all deserted, with lonely wind howling through them and asking 'Where did you go?' in that thin wintery voice. I see archers behind battlements made of hard red granite, some dead, some dying, some aiming and shooting. I feel the snap of the cord between my fingers with every shot, and the vibrating of the wood as the sting loosens.

I see men who at first glance are made of steel, but then at second you see that is their armor. I see the sigil on the breastplates, and the swords that so slicing through the air in such an effortless way. Their faces are caked with blood and sweat, their eyes are greens and blues and purples, and their hair flies wildly behind them, loose and out for the world to see. I see boys who learn under these men, their own faces loosing innocence faster than the lives outside of the granite walls are being lost. I see old men, fighting, their wiry limbs struggling to keep the spear in place as they thrust into an enemy, who in turn stabs at them. These men have white paint under their eyes, many are blind, and their whole bodies are taken up by more white paint. Small patches of faded red between these tattoos are all that is left of their youth.

I see women, dressed in beaded fabrics that hang over their starved frames as if to suggest that there is still some fat remaining on them. I see their polished, shinny, heirloom necklaces bouncing around their slim necks are they run. Some fall and are trampled by the rest. Their hair is held in long, thin locks, which are then tied together so that they form roads of hair around the neck and shoulders of these women. I see girls, running with their mothers, just trying to hold on. Just trying to. Trying…trying. But then their little hands slip, and they run after the piece of cloth they know to be their mother, but it's moving too fast. And these little ones fall behind, fall, cry…

I see the men, boys, and elders fighting, and the granite wall breaking down, collapsing in on itself and bringing down the archers with it.

I see the women running from the wall. Faster, faster, faster before they break through. Faster. There's a breach. Keeping running. The enemy is advancing. Keep going. They're gaining on us. To the river.

I see the enemy, a race of tall eared creatures that have weapons made of metal that aren't spears or swords. One of them, covered by a scratched breast plate with a sigil that is alien to me on it, kneels down and pushes his metal things before his face. He closes one yellow eye, his the fur on his long nose bristling and folding with frustration, and his long ears go back on his head. His body moves in slow, fluid twitches as he takes the weapon more firmly into his hands. The face taking the shape of an archer's as he aims, and his hand tightens on the weapon.

Then, as the thing in his hands barks like thunder, the women are nearing the river, and there is an explosion in the midst of the crowd.

I see a woman who is familiar to me, she is bleeding from everywhere and she has made it to the rivers edge. Her hands are holding a child, a girl from the locks in the hair. But I look at this child and I see the face of one of the men. I remember him, he took as shot to the chest, and died as his blood gushed out of him. This is not a girl, I realize. This is the product of a mother trying to protect what is left for her to hold.

She lays, the child raised towards the water, bleeding and weeping.

'Take this child, dear river. Take my child. Take him. Take him.'

I see the burning of the walls and soldiers and children and women reflected by the river, only broken here and there by blades of long swamp grass. I see one of the enemies advancing on the woman who screams for her child to be taken.

This soldier is different from the one who exploded the others, but he looks the same. Long ears, lone nose, thick tail behind him. He takes out a dagger from his belt and brings it into the woman's back as she holds her child up to the river. She screams and begs the river again. He stabs again, in her throat, and still she begs. He's scared now. He continues, trying to make her stop, to kill her so that this horrible sound may stop. He's never heard the cry of a mother trying to save her child before.

Somehow the child and the river are invisible to him.

I see the river stand and in a motionless way take the child from the mother, cold watery hands folding three thick fingers over the deadlocked hair and little face. The river stand there, watching the woman in an eyeless way, before it begins to walk away, its legs making not one movement.

As the river moves away from the burning and screaming, I feel that strange twinge in my heart that means I've learned something.

I know now that is how I lived through the destruction of my people.

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**Knuckles's be havin' visions mo'. **


End file.
